


Sore Loser

by mrandmrhale2



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Lacrosse, M/M, derek is so in love, stiles' is a cutie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:32:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrandmrhale2/pseuds/mrandmrhale2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is frustrated because he can’t seem to win against Derek at anything. So he comes up with, what he thinks, it the perfect thing beat him at: lacrosse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sore Loser

“Dammit, Hale!”

 

  
“Stiles, just ca-”

 

  
“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down you pompous, overachieving wolf!”

 

  
“It’s just a game, babe.”

 

  
“You cheated. You must have.”

 

  
Derek raised his eyebrows at his adorably flustered boyfriend, “How exactly does one cheat at Old Maid?”

 

  
He threw a hand up in the air and scoffed. Stiles had lost every single game he had suggested they play today. It started out with monopoly; Derek strategically bought property and Stiles’ was bankrupt within fifteen minutes. They then moved on the chess, where the werewolf easily defeated him within the first few moves.

 

  
They’d been at it all day, slowly making their way through every board game and card game Stiles’ could find laying around his house. Derek beat him every damn time.  
“I don’t know, I just know you cheated.”

 

  
“Don’t be a sore loser, dude,” Isaac shouted from another room.

 

  
Scott joined the couple in the dining room and sat down next to his best friend, “Just give it up, Stiles.”

 

  
But his jaw was locked in its usual defiant position, and he could see the wheels in his head turning. Finally, Stiles grinned and smacked his hands down on the table.  
“Lacrosse,” he said, his eyes gleaming with confidence.

 

  
Derek’s eyebrows shot up, and Scott laughed, “You want to play a sport against the guy with super werewolf speed and strength?”

 

  
Stiles just kept on grinning, “I can take him.”

 

  
The alpha bit his lip to keep from smiling, but nodded. “Okay, if you really want to,” he mumbled.

 

  
“Bring it ooooon, Sour Wolf.”

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

 

  
“This is a bad idea, Stiles,” Scott whined as he helped strap on his friend’s helmet.

 

  
“Chill out, dude. I got this. Derek doesn’t know the game like I do.”

 

  
“He’s a werewolf, Stiles! He doesn’t have to know the game to knock you out with one hit.”

 

  
Stiles rolled his eyes, “Your faith in me is very reassuring. Now get out of my way. I’m gonna go kick some alpha butt.”

 

Stiles and Derek met out in the middle of the field, both fully garbed in protective gear. Scott stood off to the side, holding the lacrosse ball in his hand, and shuffling back and forth uncertainly. “Normal braveheart rules apply. First one to score a goal wins. Try not to kill each other,” he said this last part looking directly at Derek. He simply winked in response. With a sigh, Scott placed the ball in-between the two.

 

  
“On my whistle. One,” they got down on one knee.

 

  
“Two,” they leaned down until the back of their nets were cradling the ball.

 

  
“Three,” Derek smiled at Stiles, his mouth guard making it almost comical. Stiles couldn’t help but reciprocate. Even though he was annoying difficult to beat, good God did Stiles love him.  
The whistle sounded, and Derek flipped the ball into his net before Stiles could even begin to fight for it. Before the werewolf could bring the stick to cradle it, Stiles slashed down, knocking the ball out of the net. It rolled across the grass, and both men ran for it. As they narrowed in on it, Stiles hip checked Derek, causing him to stumble. His loss of balance lasted just long enough for Stiles to scoop up the ball, and take off towards the goal.

 

  
He could sense Derek catching up to him quickly, so he pivoted and changed his angle, throwing Derek off course. His eyes were trained on the goal, and as he ran nearer and nearer, his confidence grew. He was finally going to win.

 

  
With a grunt, he hurled the ball into the goal with all he had. It hit the back of the net with a satisfying snap.

 

  
He threw his arms up into the air victoriously, laughing, “Yes! Finally!”

 

  
Across the field, Scott walked up to Derek, who unsnapped his helmet and dropped it to the ground, “No way Stiles could have knocked you over. And definitely no way he could have outrun you.”

 

  
Derek simply shrugged, a small smile on his face.

 

  
Scott studied him, noticing the love written across his face as Derek watched Stiles do a victory dance. “You let him win,” he stated, one side of his mouth kicking up.

 

  
He didn’t answer, just continued staring at his ham of a boyfriend with stars in his eyes.

 

  
Scott clasped Derek’s shoulder, patting his back a few times before turning away. “I’ll leave you two alone. Just don’t have sex on the field or anything!”


End file.
